


Little Girl Lost

by ciannwn



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: 12th Century, Gen, Humor, Underage Character, misadventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciannwn/pseuds/ciannwn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 'The Daughter of Israel'.  Grendel leads some of Lord Owen's retainers on a hunt for a missing girl, with predictably disastrous results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story suggests a possible future romance between a fourteen-year-old girl and a twenty-eight-year-old man. The story is, however, set in the last years of the 12th Century and the heroine is of marriageable age by then according to the standards of the time

"Joan! Joan!"

Maud sighed wearily and continued walking along the baked and dusty road, feeling hotter and more bad tempered by the minute. On her right the wooded slopes were unusually quiet as if their wild inhabitants were too lethargic to do anything other than snooze in the shadows, but their indolence wasn't shared by the insects which had come out for the afternoon in droves. Flies of every description busily investigated a profusion of cow-pats and sheep droppings while clouds of gnats executed their erratic, mid-air dances invariably over spots where she was unable to make a detour to avoid them.

She looked longingly at the stream on her other side but it offered little in the way of accessible refreshment. The long dry spell had reduced it to a sluggish trickle half-heartedly wending its way between scummy pools which were beginning to smell decidedly stagnant and she wasn't so desperate for a face wash yet that she was prepared to wade through the mud in order to get at the clearer water in the middle.

The road eventually veered up the hill into the forest but while it was marginally cooler beneath the overhanging trees it was also a great deal stuffier. She called again, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice but failing miserably, and when there was no reply, she plodded on with dire mental threats of what she would do to Joan when she found her. Before long she came to a fast flowing brook intersecting the path and she winced as she stepped into it because it felt ice cold to her hot and swollen feet. After a moment, however, it became just deliciously cool and she crouched down and started splashing her face.

She was interrupted by the sound of hooves approaching from the left and looked up in alarm as a party of horsemen appeared round a bend in the track leading downstream. Immediately recognising them for what they were she turned and fled back down the road, ignoring their leader's shouted orders for her to stop.

Knowing that she had no hope of outrunning them she sought an opening into the forest which would enable her to disappear but the undergrowth on either side formed an impenetrable barrier of brambles. With mounting panic she forced herself to go on, but she was sobbing for breath now and unable to maintain her pace for all that she could hear her pursuers rapidly gaining on her.

One of the horses passed her to block her path and she turned, desperately seeking another direction but she was surrounded and there was no escape. Half blinded by tears of exhaustion and terror she saw only a blurred distortion of visual impressions as the horsemen milled around her - long, unkempt hair braided with ribbons, black livery, a headband with a gold ornament.

"Gotcha!"

She screamed as she was grabbed from behind by a warrior who had dismounted in the confusion but he merely laughed at her reaction a and her ensuing kicks and struggles only served to amuse him further.

"Pack it in, Griffith!" another of the warriors ordered unexpectedly. "She's really scared." He sounded almost annoyed by the fact as if a lone girl had no right to be afraid of a gang of ruffians who, along with their Lord, enjoyed a very sinister reputation throughout the Welsh Marches.

Griffith promptly released her and she sank to the ground as her legs refused to support her further and folded up in the middle.

"Now look what you've done," the other accused as he dismounted in turn.

She looked up fearfully as he came towards her, moving with the confidence and grace of a skilled swordsman. Long dark hair braided with blue ribbons, framed a lean, aquiline featured face which, had the circumstances been less harrowing, she would have found strikingly attractive. For all that he appeared to be no more than in his early twenties there was an unmistakable air of authority about him and Griffith moved back a few steps as he reached her side.

The latter's retreat, however, had nothing to do with deference, as she soon discovered when her rescuer bent forward to help her up. Had she not been hardened by the odour of her unwashed fellow villager, the overpowering miasma of B.O. would have knocked her flat on the ground again.

"You from Clunton?" he asked conversationally, his accent to her ears one of cultured refinement for all that his style of speech was colloquial.

She nodded, still too nervous and out of breath to speak so she was, therefore, able to catch Griffith complaining, "I like that! It was his bloody idea to go after her!" to the others. Belatedly realising that her companion was the one responsible for her pursuit and capture she shrank away from him, mistrusting his motives for this sudden show of concern.

"I just wondered what you were doing wandering around on your own," he explained, obviously having heard Griffith's remark too. "A young girl like you ought to know better than that - you never know what trouble you might run into."

Maud couldn't really imagine anything much worse than what she had run into already but didn't think it would be a good idea to mention the fact. Nevertheless, she felt that he expected her to say something so made a valiant attempt to speak but she only got as far as "I...er...." before running out of inspiration.

"So what were you doing?" he insisted, his tone implying that he was far from satisfied with the explanation.

"I....I...." She took a deep breath then started again. "I'm looking for my sister. She kept playing me up this morning so I lost my temper with her and she ran off. She's only seven."

"Oh, I see," he said, sounding unconvinced. "So why did you run off the moment you saw us?"

"Because....." Again she trailed off into a miserable silence as she vainly tried to come up with a plausible answer which wouldn't offend him. After all, she could hardly say that anyone who'd heard only half the rumours of what went on at Clun Castle would feel driven to dive for cover if Lord Owen and/or his retainers were in the vicinity.

"Perhaps she thought we were a raiding party from across the border," another of the warriors said in all seriousness.

Grasping at this suggestion as a way out of her dilemma she gazed up at her interrogator with all the innocence she could muster. "Well, how was I to know at a distance?" she argued timidly. "If you were me, would you have stayed there to see who it was?"

"No. I suppose not," he conceded. "But why didn't you go straight to Old Mother Gethen? Or doesn't she scry for missing persons?"

He looked at her as if to say that visiting the local wise woman would be the immediate course of action for anyone who'd mislaid a relative so why hadn't she tried her first?

She gave him a sweet smile. "She's visiting her daughter at Purslow for a few days. You can check for yourself if you don't believe me."

She immediately regretted her show of spirit in case he interpreted it as insolence, so she was both pleased and relieved to see that he looked a little deflated at failing to catch her out.

"Oh. I didn't know," he said huffily as if annoyed at the thought of other people knowing something which he didn't.

"Can I go now, then?" she asked hopefully.

He seemed about to say, yes, but changed his mind at the last minute. "No. We'll come with you and help you look. As I said before, it's not safe for you to be out alone."

Oh, no, please don't, she thought miserably, dismayed at the prospect of their escorting her around Clun. Not that the others sounded all that thrilled by the prospect of doing the escorting judging by what she could hear of their comments in the background so, taking encouragement from this distinct lack of enthusiasm, she said:

"That's very kind of you, but you must have a lot more important things to do."

"Not at the moment," he told her firmly. "We just came out to pass the time so we might as well do something useful."

She decided it was pointless to argue further for he was obviously determined to assist her whether she wanted him to or not, no doubt because he thought that it might lead him to the truth if she was lying or, at the very least, enable him to stop her from doing something she shouldn't by depriving her of the opportunity.

"Thank you," she replied, doing her best to sound sweet and demure. "I'm very grateful to you."

He gave her a long look which clearly stated that he had no illusions on that score before saying, "Right, then. We'll need to rest the horses a bit first but I don't suppose you'd mind a few minutes to get your breath back. Think it would be better if we moved back to the stream, though, don't you. It's cooler there."

Correctly guessing that he wasn't really asking her opinion on where they should sit she kept quiet and let him get on with organising the proceedings and soon they were back where they'd started with the horses tethered to bushes and the warriors sprawled on the ground drinking from skins of ale. It was more than obvious that whatever they were accustomed to doing in order to pass the time, imbibing vast quantities of liquid refreshment was high on the list of favourite activities and she fervently hoped they wouldn't get drunk and become even more unsavoury than they were already.

Her self-appointed guardian was thoughtful enough to share his ale with her on the correct assumption that she'd be thirsty after her exertions but when it actually came to letting her regain her breath he gave her little opportunity to do so. He seemed intent on interrogating her and she soon found that she'd told him practically everything there was to know about herself from her being fourteen but still unwed to how she was prone to go down with the sneezing sickness in winter. His interest in her would have been flattering had he given any indication that he found her attractive but, as he didn't, she eventually came to the conclusion that he simply incurably nosy. Much as she'd have liked to have told him to mind his own business she didn't dare, being only a lowly, albeit freeborn, peasant but he finally ran out of questions for the time being and announced:

"I'm Grendel, by the way. Lord Owen's Captain."

Her reaction pleased him on two counts. She looked suitably impressed by his rank and as he hadn't been Captain for all that long, he was still enjoying the novelty of being important so liked people to remind him that he was. Secondly, being a peasant, she lacked the education to associate him with fens and Beowulf, which saved him from having to explain that his family went in for exotically foreign names and had just happened to make a dreadful mistake in his case.

Having introduced himself he then did the same for the others.

"David," - a burly, down to earth looking man whose appearance was not improved by greasy, dark blond hair and a scrubby beard. His clothes, although shabby, promised years of service yet and had clearly been chosen with that view in mind and this sensible, no nonsense approach was reflected in his head-band which was adorned with nothing more than a simple metal disk.

"Rhys," - an overweight youth with tangled blond hair and terminal acne. On hearing his name he stopped squeezing spots for long enough to give her a buck-toothed smile before resuming his all-absorbing occupation.

"Llewellyn," - a hefty, over-muscled young lout with frizzy dark hair and a nose which had been broken and badly reset. When he smiled in turn he revealed a wide gap where his top front teeth had once been.

"Iorweth," - a tall, thin, pale ghost of a man with braids, a gold ornamented head-band and dandruff which drifted down like snow every time he moved his head. He gave her a brief stare of acknowledgement which sent a chill down her spine for there was something about the dreamy, faraway look in his eyes which suggested an unhealthy quirk in his personality.

"And you've already met Griffith," - a mean looking customer with shifty eyes and a face which fell into a natural scowl. Braids, ornamental head-band, a black studded belt, a matching baldric and a dagger strapped to his right boot completed his fearsome appearance. As he was currently engaged in squirting ale through his teeth to wash the bits out he had to swallow first before giving her a grin which was surprisingly good natured considering where it had originated. Then he belched loudly but didn't look too sorry about it.

"He's my second in command," Grendel continued with a somewhat pained expression. "And the best ale-spitter in the Marches." He found this last detail a matter of pride, however, because Griffith's talent had great prestige value amongst the rougher elements along the Welsh border. 

"Mind you," he added, "I'm almost as good."

There was a loud raspberry from Griffith. "You came last when we took on Mortimer's lot!"

"Only because I nearly choked to death," Grendel snapped. Then he turned back to Maud. "I had some go down the wrong way but they thought I was just mucking about until I started turning purple."

He sounded quite hurt by the others' lack of consideration so she thought it might be wise to show sympathy at this point.

"It must have been awful for you."

"It was," he agreed. "I lost a shilling on the betting."

"Er...we..." she said brightly, changing the subject. "I really ought to start looking for Joan."

As the warriors seemed to be enjoying lounging around with a plentiful supply of ale to hand she hoped they'd be more than happy to stay where they were but she was disappointed. Grendel stood up a second or two after she did and ordered the others to get moving and while there were a few sighs and muttered protests, they lost no time in doing what they were told.

"So where were you thinking of looking?" he enquired.

"The old mine," she said, resigning herself to having their company for the rest of the afternoon. "We've always told her not to go near there but knowing Joan...."

Grendel gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Iorweth comes from Clun Town so he probably knows it. IORWETH!"

Maud winced, half deafened by the sheer volume of noise as he summoned his friend. It was enough to awaken the dead let alone rouse people from their daydreams and Iorweth drifted across to them as silently as a fall of dandruff.

"Ever been to the old mine around here?" Grendel demanded.

"Mmmmm," he replied vaguely. Then the question sank in and he said, "I used to play up there sometimes when I was a kid. It was abandoned before they got very far with it so there's only a couple of short tunnels. You can't get lost in there."

He spoke very softly in a broad Shropshire accent for, unlike the others, he hadn't been raised in Wales or the Welsheries along the border. His ancestors had stubbornly refused to move from their original home in spite of Saxons and then Normans and he was secretly very proud of the fact that his three times great grandfather was recorded in the Domesday Book as one of four Welshmen paying two and fourpence.

"So she won't be in any danger, then?" Maud asked hopefully.

"Not if she doesn't poke around too much," he assured her. Then he startled her by reaching out and gently pushing her hair back from her face before shyly adding, "You've got very pretty ears."

Despite her youth and lack of knowledge of the world outside Clunton, this diffident approach struck her as being a little abnormal so she stepped back hurriedly with a non-committal, "Er...thank you."

"My last girlfriend had very pretty ears," he went on, his sorrowful tones indicating that the romance had ended unhappily as far as he was concerned.

"Oh. Er...did she?" Maud commented nervously, fervently hoping that he hadn't got her lined up as a potential successor to his lost love.

Fortunately Grendel had another fit of efficiency at this point and interrupted the conversation by organising their departure. They still had quite a way to go and he felt that they'd get there quicker if Maud rode with someone so she was able to escape Iorweth by taking advantage of Griffith's invitation.

As she'd only ever ridden a docile cow when she was very little, she found the experience of being on horseback alarming at first - it seemed such a long way down to the ground. After a while, though, she realised that her companion had no intention of letting her fall off so she turned her attention to Grendel who, she had to admit, was rather intriguing for all that he was extremely irritating in other ways. Everything about him suggested that he was of a higher class than the others and she couldn't help wondering who he was.

"Fancy our Grendel then, do you?" Griffith suddenly enquired, sounding thoroughly amused by the idea.

"No, I...." she floundered, realising to her embarrassment that she'd had her head blatantly turned in the subject's direction. "I was just curious about him, that's all. He's so different from anyone I've ever met before. Is he a Lord's son?"

She immediately regretted asking this as it did rather imply that the rest of the company was less than genteel but Griffith, who had no pretensions to being other than the slob he was, merely laughed uproariously.

"What, him?" he spluttered. "His family used to sell leeks in Hereford market."

Grendel, who'd seemed oblivious to the talk going on behind him, turned round at that.

"We happened to own the Welsh delicatessen in the High Street," he corrected loftily as if that made the world of difference. Not that it did to Maude because Hereford to her was as remote as Jerusalem and with her knowledge of towns limited to three visits to Clun, market stalls and shops were equally as grand in her estimation.

Having made a mention of his past, Grendel seemed of the opinion that Maud would be as fascinated by the rest of his life history as he'd been with hers. She was, therefore, treated to a lengthy discourse about his family moving back to their native village of Pant-y-Gyrdil in Gwynedd when he was thirteen; his training as a warrior and his early ventures into cattle raiding. His friends, who'd heard it all before, made many a pointed comment to this effect but he was determined to keep on wittering on so in the end everyone, including Maud, just ignored him and looked at the scenery. There wasn't much to see, really, except for a few squirrels and a marten which peered down at them with the lively curiosity of its kind but with Grendel nattering nineteen to the dozen it was hardly surprising that most of the wildlife had fled.

They eventually left the main path and followed a trail meandering up to the higher slopes of Clunton Hill while Grendel recounted his adventures as a Sergeant of the Watch at Sir William de Butlin's holiday camp at Pwhelli. As most of his stories involved scandalous goings on in the staff pavilion lines they were a little more interesting to listen to but he finally ran out of things to say as they reached the top of the hill and started following a downward slope as the track descended the other side.

The trees had started to thin out now and eventually they were able to see across the valley to the distant hamlet of Walcot where the inhabitants might have had two heads and a tail for all that Maud knew about the place. Now that they were nearly as their destination she couldn't really imagine Joan coming this far but, on the other hand, her sister did have a tendency to go out of her way to be disobedient so it wasn't impossible that she'd undertake a walk of several miles just to show all those interfering grownups back home.

The ground before the mine entrance had been levelled out into a fairly flat area with rocks and boulders piled either side. Much of the space was overgrown with scrubby bushes for the project had been started several generations ago in the time of the de Says who'd held Clun before Lord Owen's family; not that it had gone on for very long, though, because the amount of lead they'd found in the depths of Clunton Hill hadn't proved worth the effort of digging for it.

The warriors unanimously decided to have an ale break before continuing the search so Iorweth took this opportunity to cultivate Maud's acquaintance further. Seating himself on a boulder near where she was standing due to the effects of riding on a behind unaccustomed to it, he nostalgically said, "I used to like playing up here. It's so peaceful."

Although he was the last person she wanted to talk to right now, she didn't dare snub him because she had no idea how he might react if she offended him. Doing her best to sound politely disinterested, she therefore said, "Isn't it rather a long way from the town?"

"I had my own pony," he explained. The wistfulness returned to his voice. "My father was a horse trader, you see, but when he died we couldn't afford to keep it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied, fervently hoping that he wasn't going to follow his Captain's example and relate his entire life history. Apart from not wanting to encourage him by giving him the impression she was a willing listener, she suspected that it might be an epic tale of tragedy if what she'd just heard was a typical example.

Luckily the others didn't take too long over their refreshment so she was able to escape her unwanted admirer by wandering over to the entrance with them while he remained seated and stared after her with a faintly puzzled expression as if unable to understand where he was going wrong. Grendel, however, didn't think she ought to go in with them in case it was dangerous and ordered her to stay outside. He then warned the rest of the party to keep their voices down because he'd heard somewhere that a long of noise could annoy the goblins who often lived in such places and it was quite common for them to cause a roof fall in revenge.

David looked rather worried at this but although he didn't say anything he hung back with Maud, much to her great relief because she didn't fancy being left alone with Iorweth. His presence also promised to be useful in another way. The warriors, who'd only been speaking in English for her benefit, had dropped back into Welsh the moment she was no longer with them so he'd be able to keep her up to date with what could be heard of the conversation by translating for her.

With the sun shining directly onto the hillside there was enough light diffused from the entrance to illuminate the main tunnel, albeit dimly, but it still seemed pitch black to the search party at first. Once their eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, however, they moved further back inside, carefully stepping over rubble to avoid tripping or spraining an ankle. It was more obvious than ever now that the place hadn't been worked for years and Griffith, on finding the remains of a rusty chisel, remarked that they were unlikely to run into Wild Edric in there.

"Who's Wild Edric?" asked Grendel who hadn't been in Shropshire long enough to hear all the local legends.

"Just some English thane who held Clun before the Normans moved in," Griffith explained, his tone clearly stating that he had no sympathy for foreign invaders who'd been displaced in turn in 1066. "Apparently he led a rebellion against them but gave up in the end and got pally with them instead."

"Typical," said Grendel scornfully, having no more love for the English en masse than the average Welshman. "But what's that got to do with mines?"

"Well he was cursed for turning traitor, wasn't he," Griffith told him. "It's said that he and his retainers haunt the lead mines around Shropshire and tap to let the miners know if there's a good lode or something."

"What? All of them?"

"Well his wife's supposed to be amongst them so I don't see why he couldn't have his grooms and kitchen boys too."

"What I meant," Grendel said patiently as if talking to an idiot, "is how's he supposed to haunt every mine in Shropshire? Any why mines come to that? It seems a bit odd if he was a warrior."

"How the bloody hell should I know?" Griffith snapped, sounding more than a little annoyed. "Go down some working mines and ask him personally if you're so interested."

"There's no need to lose your temper," Grendel replied coldly, emphasising his displeasure by stalking off to join the other two with as much dignity as the littered floor would permit.

"Phaugh! Something stinks in here," complained Rhys who'd reached the first of the side tunnels.

"That's Grendel," quipped Llewellyn. "He's standing right behind you."

The subject of the remark stonily ignored it as he did any adverse criticism unless it came from Lord Owen. Peering into the opening he was able to make out a shape which was marginally blacker than the darkness in which it lay and, curious, he went over to investigate.

"It's just somebody in need of a funeral. Been here a while by the state of him," he announced after a moment.

"Did he leave anything worth having?" asked Griffith hopefully.

"Give me a chance," came the peevish reply. "I've only just got here."

Grendel searched the remains with the expertise of long practise but there were no rings, weapons, coins or any other items of value as far as he could tell by touch alone.

"Probably some vagrant who crawled in here to die," he announced finally.

"What about the head?" asked Rhys. "Aren't you going to take it?"

"You must be joking," Grendel said indignantly. "It's alive with maggots."

"But Lord Owen..."

"He's got enough skulls already so if he wants that one he can come and get it himself," Grendel told him firmly as he re-entered the main tunnel. "I'm certainly not carrying it back for him."

"Not much point in looking any further in here, then, " David said from the entrance. "No little girl's going to explore a mine with a rotting corpse in it."

"Brunhilda would have," Grendel told him, his tone clearly implying that no sister of his would have let him down by showing such lack of spirit as a child.

"Well, of course, your family's different to anyone else's," David said wearily, having heard more about his Captain's numerous relatives than he'd ever wished to know. "You can carry on looking round in there if you want but I'm staying out here. Goblins or no goblins, the roof doesn't look too safe to me."

Grendel glanced up to check but everything seemed all right to him so he dismissed the warning as yet another example of David's gloom and doom outlook on life. He, himself, was all in favour of a reasonable amount of caution but had he carried it to David's extremes he'd have been too worried about possible disasters to risk getting out of bed in the morning. Nevertheless, he began feeling a little uneasy about being there so, after a decent interval, he wandered nonchalantly outside again with an air of having lost interest in the proceedings.

"I don't think she's in there either," he informed Maud. "But the others are making sure."

Wiping his filthy hands down his trousers he went over to his horse, undid his saddle bag and brought out a chunk of bread and some cheese which he generously offered round. Iorweth carried on staring at nothing as if he hadn't heard the question but David accepted a share as did Llewellyn who had wandered out a few minutes after his Captain.

"No thanks," said Maud with a shudder when it came to her own turn. Ordinary, everyday dirt didn't bother her but the thought of what Grendel had been handling earlier on was too much even for a no-nonsense peasant.

."JO-OAN! JO-OAN!" a loud voice suddenly echoed from the depths.

"Don't shout, you........" came a quieter, albeit frantic warning, but whatever Griffith was going to call Rhys remained a mystery because the rest of his words were lost in a hollow rumble. Seconds later a cloud of dust billowed out of the mine to make everyone cough and sneeze until it had subsided and then they stared out into the darkness, momentarily paralysed with shock.

Grendel was the first to recover. Throwing the last of his bread and cheese on the ground he ran over to the entrance and looked up at the roof immediately inside. This still seemed intact so he went in a few feet before examining the roof again.

"Griffith! Rhys!" he called softly, half expecting the sound to result in a further collapse.

"Can you see......" began David, only to be shushed as a succession of scraping and clunking noises started up from somewhere at the back.

Motioning for the others to stay put, Grendel cautiously made his way to the sounds of the activity. It was very gloomy here but he could still see that one of the side tunnels was blocked by rock and rubble although his being able to hear somebody digging his way out from the other side indicated that things weren't as serious as they could be.

On returning to the entrance he explained the situation then picked Iorweth and Llewellyn to help him clear the rock fall from their side, leaving David with the task of thinking up a sensible solution to any further problem should it arise. Maud, who'd been temporarily forgotten since the start of the emergency, was half tempted to creep away while her unwanted escort was otherwise occupied but she refrained from doing so on the grounds that it wouldn't really be fair. No matter what she thought of them personally, the fact was that they wouldn't have got themselves into this situation if they hadn't been helping her look for Joan so the least she could do was wait and make sure they were going to be alright.

It was impossible to see what the rescuers were doing but by listening carefully she and David were able to get a good idea of how things were progressing. Regular clunks of rocks dropped on the floor were interspersed with clattering showers of dislodged stones, dust induced coughs and sneezes and whispered instructions from Grendel who sounded as though he were doing far more directing than digging. There was no indication that the work was causing further disturbance but it was a nerve racking experience waiting for something awful to happen while desperately hoping it wouldn't so Maud was very relieved when she suddenly heard Griffith's voice even though she couldn't catch what he was saying. This was followed by several clunks and clatters as he dislodged loose rubble while climbing through the hole they'd made and after a short interval these noises were repeated as Rhys did likewise.

A moment later, filthy and dishevelled figures emerged blinking into the sunlight, their red rimmed eyes contrasting strangely with their sweat streaked grey faces. With one mind they made for the horses and the ale to hold what amounted to an impromptu spitting contest as they rinsed the dust from their mouths and this accomplished, Iorweth sat down on his boulder again to resume his interrupted daydream while the others turned on Rhys and called him all kinds of idiot for not doing what he was told. It took quite a while because they knew an extraordinary number of insults between them with Grendel even coming out with a few Norman-French ones which he'd picked up during his season at de Butlin's. Rhys positively wilted under the barrage but everyone ran out of inspiration at last and peace of a sort was restored as they turned their attention to brushing as much dust as possible from their persons.

Griffith removed his headband to attend to his hair and uttered a strangled cry of absolute horror as he saw that it was no longer adorned with its ornament.

"My charm!" he yelled, panic stricken. "I've lost my charm!"

"Didn't know you had any to start with," Llewellyn said rudely.

The remark, however, was lost on Griffith who just shoved him out of the way and made a dash back to the mine. He didn't get very far, though, before he was restrained by David who shouted at him not to be a fool.

"But I've got to find it," Griffith insisted wildly.

"NO!" Grendel said firmly as he grabbed hold of his second in command's arm for added emphasis. "You've got a spare back at Clun and you aren't going to come across any out here."

"But I might without it," Griffith argued plaintively.

"You're more likely to come across them in there," Grendel countered.

"If the roof doesn't come down on you again first," added David.

Griffith opened his mouth to protest further then shut it again as one or other of the dire warnings finally sunk in. Seeing as he'd given up the idea of re-entering the mine the others released him, upon which he started ruffling the dust out of his hair with a thoroughly dejected expression. Maud, who'd watched this latest crisis in bewilderment, was dying to know what it was all about but as she didn't like to ask her curiosity had to remain unsatisfied.

At long last everyone but Iorweth was ready but it seemed that he didn't mind being covered in a grey pall because he mounted up regardless. This time Maude found herself with Grendel which was a far from pleasant experience for his exertions in the mine had done nothing to improve his aroma which was now underlaid with the ripeness of something long dead from his encounter with the corpse. Fortunately for her heaving stomach he embarked on a long consultation with David on where they should search next so not having to talk meant that she could keep her breathing down to an absolute minimum.

It was decided to go down into the valley, call in at the village of Stepple to enquire if anyone had seen Joan and, if there was no news, return to Clunton. As David pointed out, children often gave up the idea of running away as soon as they got hungry so they might as well check to see if she'd gone home. If not, they could recruit some of the villagers and organise a proper search party.

Grendel thought this sound advice, as did Maud although she didn't voice her opinion. One direction was as good as another now that the mine had been eliminated and without proper organisation they could wander round aimlessly until nightfall. Besides, her parents might well be frantic if it seemed that both their daughters had gone missing so it would be as well to let them know that she, at least, was safe. The thought that her sister might already be there gave her something to hope for because she was starting to feel worried herself now that she didn't have a set destination in mind. What if Joan had fallen and hurt herself? Or had she gone the other way and ended up in the Clun river?

No, she told herself sternly as she realised that her imagination was starting to run away with her. I'm not going to fret until I've got good reason to.

It was difficult keeping her mind away from the worst that could have happened so it was almost a relief when the peace was broken by Llewellyn starting up an irritating, tuneless whistle. His friends immediately began yelling threats at him as if this were a habit which often grated on their nerves and Maud, while shocked by some of the details of the promised brutality, had to agree that violence was, perhaps, justifiable in this case.

Llewellyn accused them of nagging again but duly desisted much to everyone's relief. Then there was another not and sticky silence until they eventually became aware of a distant bleating on their left as they descended to the road which, at this point, ran over the hill's lower slopes. No resident of Shropshire could fail to recognise the sound of sheep on the move so Grendel ordered a halt at the roadside in order to ask the drovers if they'd seen any sign of Joan.

"And I don't want any trouble," he warned. "I heard something about moving the flocks to new pastures so they're probably Lord Owen's."

"Listening at the door again, were you?" enquired Llewellyn.

Grendel loftily ignored this remark but his composure slipped a little when David explained that nobody else's sheep would be passing through Clun for another month because the livestock fairs weren't held until September.

"Of course it's probably different in Gwynedd," Llewellyn added just to rub in the fact that Grendel didn't know as much as he liked to pretend he did.

Grendel ignored this remark too and stared down the road. There was nothing to be seen at first other than a cloud of dust raised by innumerable little hooves but as this neared their position the animals and men became visible through the haze. The procession was led by a huge, shambling Saxon carrying a quarterstaff while directly behind him plodded a large, solidly built ram with a bell around its neck. Next came an assortment of ewes, wethers and smaller rams escorted by another quarterstaffed Saxon with very prominent ears and finally, bringing up the rear, were too more drovers armed with shepherd's crooks and three dogs with limply lolling tongues.

Grendel helped Maud down before urging his horse into the middle of the road and shouting at the leading drover to stop. This was easier said than done because some of the sheep took a while to get the message and Grendel had to back up hurriedly to avoid having his horse alarmed at being surrounded by a brainlessly shoving mass.

It took a great deal of persuasion on Grendel's part before the drover would accept that this scruffy looking object before him was, perhaps, his Lord's Captain and not a bandit after all but he remained suspicious throughout the exchange concerning Joan. No, he hadn't seen a little girl wandering around on her own and, yes, he would send a message to Clunton if he heard or saw anything of her.

Llewellyn, meanwhile, had started swapping amiable insults with the other drovers, much to Maud's embarrassment but she soon turned pinker after Griffith, who'd been a little subdued after his experience in the mine, responded to the fun and joined in with a lively obscenity which was enough to make a camp follower blush. Rhys and David found it very funny, however, so with everyone distracted by the slanging match they failed to notice certain signs which suggested that Iorweth's mental state was taking a turn for the worse; there was a manic glare in his eyes as he studied a certain drover and he was visibly shaking as Grendel's order warred with his own strange inclinations.

The man concerned carried on swapping insults, unaware that his batwing ears were the cause of so much inner conflict. Then, suddenly, a gaunt scarecrow figure brandishing a knife leapt off its horse with a grotesque, high pitched giggle and tore the quarterstaff out of his hands. This frightened the sheep as well as the drover and they scattered in all directions as the prospective victim grabbed Iorweth's wrists and wrestled with him for possession of the knife.

The next few minutes were complete chaos. Grendel's horse plunged and reared as fleeing sheep barged into it, its rider only staying on due to superb feats of horsemanship inspired by the thought of being trampled by all those sharp little hooves. Griffith, David and Llewellyn exhibited similar skills at the side of the road but Rhys''s mount succeeded in throwing him and bolted up the hill with Iorweth's. Maud was sent flying by an ewe, the other drovers, who were desperately trying to reach their comrade, were tossed to and fro on a sea of milling wool and the dogs, excited by all the activity, ran round in circles barking furiously.

By the time the sheep had regrouped a little distance away from the disturbance, the fight was over. The drover stood against a tree for support while Iorweth crouched in the road lovingly examining something which he'd retrieved from the dust. Nobody moved for a second or two then the injured man's comrades ran over to him and, on realising what had happened, adopted an air of group belligerence. It was a situation which needed careful handling if it wasn't to erupt into further trouble so Grendel looked pointedly in Griffith's direction and indicated that he wanted some reinforcements of his own.

Griffith told Maud to hold the horses and sent Rhys to round up the missing pair then he, David and Llewellyn went over to Grendel where they formed a second group which appeared ready and capable of dealing with anything which the first could come up with. This reminder that they were both outnumbered and outclassed in the weapons department caused the drovers to back down a little but, while they no longer looked so inclined to start anything, it was still clear that they weren't prepared to let the matter drop. Not that Grendel expected them to but he had every intention of settling the grievance now, if he could, rather than have them make an official complaint of unprovoked assault to Lord Owen. The latter, for all his lack of respect when it came to his peer's property and territory, liked to keep his own nest in good order so would not appreciate its being fouled by his Captain and senior officers.

Grendel dismounted, handed the reins to David and stalked over to Iorweth, his face set in an expression of cold fury. The other heard his approach and looked up at him, his eyes revealing that he'd come to his proper senses now and was feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself for having disobeyed orders.

Had the circumstances been less awkward, Grendel would have negotiated for a generous, if unofficial compensation there and then - after all, Iorweth wasn't exactly responsible for his actions at times and, as Grendel had known that his friend was going through one of his unstable phases, he should have arranged for the others to keep an eye on him while he, himself, was asking questions about Joan. Unfortunately, however, he could see that the drovers were liable to be cussed about settling things on the side if they thought the negotiator approved of his men mutilating innocent passersby so he had no choice but to indicate otherwise.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly so that only Maud and his own men could hear. "But I've got to do this." Then he took a leaf out of Lord Owen's book of disciplinary measures and gave Iorweth a backhander which sent him sprawling.

Maud winced at the blow but in actual fact it looked far worse than it was for Grendel had no desire to hurt his friend so had really done little more than make him overbalance. This accomplished he waded in verbally, his voice so chill that Maud could almost see icicles hanging from his words - it was enough to make even the most hardened transgressor cringe and Iorweth, who was far from stupid in his normal phases, duly did what was required of him. It was a very convincing bit of play acting on both sides and the drovers started to look as if they would listen to reason now that they thought they could see justice being done.

"Oh, get over there with the others," Grendel eventually concluded in disgust. "And try not to start any more trouble."

Iorweth got to his feet still clutching his dripping prize and did as he'd been told while Grendel went to tackle the drovers. A long argument followed during which Rhys returned with the missing horses and enquired what was going on but as Maud wasn't really sure she suggested he ask his friends. It was an answer which she immediately regretted because Rhys took it to mean right that minute and left her with two more animals to care for.

Grendel finally succeeded in striking a bargain with the leading drover who'd done most of the haggling while the other two attended to their injured comrade. It worked out very expensive because the man was no fool so was fully aware that the warriors' not wanting Lord Owen to hear of the incident was a golden opportunity to blackmail them into paying more than the official fine.

"But I haven't got that much," Iorweth said worriedly on being informed of the verdict. Removing his headband he detached its ornament and handed the latter to Grendel. "Would they take this instead? It's worth a lot more than they're asking."

"No. It's cash or nothing," Grendel lied. The ornament was one of the few things of value which Iorweth possessed because he spent most of his wages helping to support his mother and a permanently ailing sister so he didn't want to take it from him. "I expect we can help you out with the rest."

"Yeah, pay us back when you can," said Griffith with the full approval of the others. Iorweth, however, insisted on selling the ornament and repaying the debt tomorrow and as he could be very stubborn at times they knew it was pointless arguing about it.

Rhys rejoined Maud who was still waiting patiently at the side of the road and sorted out the money which they carried concealed on their persons. It was a considerable amount for they'd learned through bitter experience that in spite of bandits, raiding parties and other hazards it was far safer with them that in Lord Owen's keeping but Maude was too shocked by what Iorweth carefully put in his saddle bag to be dazzled by how rich they were compared to anyone in her village.

Seeing her looking at him in horror, Iorweth gave her a shy, sweet smile which was a mixture of friendliness and apology for his behaviour but this only served to horrify her still more and she backed away and took refuge with Grendel who was on the far side of the line-up.

"He...he cut off that man's ear," she stammered, trying not to be sick at the thought.

"He's just got a thing about them, that's all," Grendel explained cheerfully. "Every so often he goes a bit mental until he's taken another one for his collection but he's all right the rest of the time."

"Are you sure?" she asked nervously.

"Oh, yes," he assured her. "He's a really nice person when you get to know him properly, except that you've got to watch out when he's having one of his funny turns. I mean, you don't want bits of yourself ear today and gone tomorrow, do you?"

He looked as if he were about to emphasise his joke by kicking her but, perhaps out of consideration for her sex, he changed his mind and nudged her in the ribs with his elbow instead. Her resulting "Oooof!" was obviously not the reaction he'd been expecting because he regarded her quizzically for a moment then shrugged as if to imply that some people just didn't have a sense of humour.

"But he was admiring my ears earlier on," she insisted, still unconvinced.

"That means he fancies you," he told her with a patronising smile. "He only takes ears in fights, though, so you've nothing to worry about - he'd never attack a woman."

She gave up at this point and let him get on with counting out his money; it was infuriatingly clear that he regarded her fears as a lot of fuss about nothing so she thought it might be wiser to go elsewhere before she lost her temper and called him a pompous twit.

Pity Iorweth doesn't cut off your ears she thought as she went over to stand by Griffith. If they're as big as your conceit they'd be the pride of his collection.

"The poor bugger can't help it, you know," remarked Griffith sympathetically.

"What? Being a pompous twit?" she said scornfully, totally misunderstanding the reference.

"No, Iorweth cutting off ears," he clarified, sounding highly amused by her mistake. "He's feeling bad enough about causing trouble as it is without you glaring at him like he was some kind of monster."

She glanced across to where the subject of the discussion was sadly contemplating the ground. He looked so unhappy and ashamed of himself that she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him in spite of his revolting habits.

"I didn't mean to upset him," she said contritely although her remorse for having done so was far outweighed by her apprehension in case Iorweth's friends didn't know him as well as they thought.

Grendel chose that moment to collect everyone's contributions towards the settlement but once he'd handed over his share Griffith gave her a reassuring smile.

"Didn't say you did. It was only natural the way you reacted, I suppose, so it weren't your fault. But try not to glare at him anymore. All right?"

She nodded her agreement but didn't add that it was all she was going to do in case Iorweth got the idea that she was starting to fancy him back.

Grendel went past en route for the drovers, practising an expression of goodwill and returned a few minutes later with the martyred air of one who'd had no choice but to allow others to take advantage of him. There was nothing to do now other than let the flock get out of their way so he ordered everyone to spend the time in checking over their horses in case any had been injured during the excitement. This was a little overbearing of him because they'd have done that anyway before moving on but as he'd succeeded in smoothing things over with the drovers they thought it only fair to let him be a pain in the neck for a while if it made him happy.

Maud watched the wounded drover totter past while the warriors busied themselves preparing for their own departure. He leaned on his quarterstaff for support, looking deathly pale and in a great deal of pain because his friends had been unable to do more than bind his head with a strip of cloth so, in spite of her new found charity towards Iorweth, she couldn't help feeling that his victims still deserved the greater part of her sympathy. It was all very well saying he couldn't help it but that was no consolations to the owners of the ears.


	2. Chapter 2

The animals being unhurt, everyone mounted up again with Maud perched in front of Rhys this time because Grendel's and Griffith's horses had already carried a double load. She didn't mind this initially for his company was certainly a lot easier on the nose but her relief at escaping Lord Owen's odiferous Captain was short lived. Her gasp of alarm at Rhys's horse stumbling as they turned down a steeply descending side track prompted him to grab hold of her on the excuse that he didn't want her falling off and it wasn't long before his hands started wandering in all sorts of directions they shouldn't have. She tried just shrugging him off at first but he refused to take the hint so she next resorted to pointedly removing the offending appendages from her person but that didn't work either. A sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow got better results for he left her alone for all of two minutes but no sooner had she thought that he'd finally given up than he started all over again.

"Do you mind keeping your grubby little hands to yourself?" she yelled at last.

"Please! Don't shout! I didn't mean anything," he whispered urgently, not wanting the others to hear what he'd been up to but it was too late. Iorweth, who'd been riding on ahead, had dropped back beside them.

"Don't be a nuisance, Rhys," he said with his habitual quietness but there was something in his tone which suggested that it was unwise to cross him even though he'd reverted to normal.

Rhys immediately moved his hands as far away from Maud as was possible if he were still to retain control of his horse.

"No, I won't. Honestly," he promised hurriedly.

"Make sure you don't forget, then," Iorweth warned. "I'll be watching you from now on."

"Thank you," Maud told him politely, then added an equally polite smile of gratitude because the gesture could hardly be classified as an invitation under the circumstances - or at least she hoped not.

"You're welcome," he replied with a shyly polite smile back before turning his head away in apparent confusion.

Maud got the impression that he'd gone red with embarrassment although it was difficult to tell under the amount of dust and grime which plastered his face but whatever the colour of his complexion, it was obvious that he still fancied her she wasn't sure what to do about it now that he'd disgraced himself in her eyes. For some reason she found this rather touching until she caught sight of his hand with its blood encrusted nails as he pulled his horse back so that he could take the end of the line behind Rhys - it was an all too gruesome reminder of what he'd got in his saddle bag but she made the effort not to let him see that he still repelled her. After all, he had rescued her from Rhys's attentions which confirmed what Grendel had said about his being a nice person when he wasn't having one of his funny turns so she didn't want to hurt his feelings any more than she had already.

The track eventually led down to the stream a little to the north of Stepple but as the spot provided two very good reasons for stopping there, Grendel called for a very welcome break. The first excuse was a sagging hut set a few yards back from the bank which was worth investigating in case Joan had taken up temporary residence. Secondly it was falling apart close by a tiny spring. This was too feeble to do more than create a permanent mud patch in its immediate vicinity but the water was sparkling clear at the source and far more inviting than warm ale to the hot and thirsty travellers.

The warriors proved that chivalry wasn't confined to Anglo-Norman knights by inviting Maud to go first while one of them checked the hut but she thought this might alarm her sister if she was in there so she insisted on doing it herself. Not that it took her long because a quick look through the doorway was enough to establish that it contained nothing more than cobwebs and, disappointed, she returned to the others and was let in at the head of the queue behind Grendel who was washing the accumulated layers of dirt off his face.

The next few minutes were idyllically peaceful as, one by one, the party finished freshening themselves up and returned to the shade provided by the hut for a rest while the horses dozed nearby tethered to the saplings. Grendel produced a comb and started tackling his hair which had come to resemble a demented bird's nest through the afternoon's hectic activities; Maud, who found it far more comfortable to stand, caught a couple of fleas hopping around on her dress; Rhys resumed squeezing spots; Iorweth finally got round to brushing some of the dust and dandruff from his clothes; Llewellyn sat down then got up again after a few seconds and disappeared into the hut while David took a small box out of his saddle bag before removing his boots so that he could rub salve on his corns - the ointment smelled vile but then, so did his feet.

"Good stuff, that," Grendel said, cracking a louse and flicking the remains aside as he spoke. "It cured mine."

"Oi! Watch it!" complained Rhys. "I've got enough of my own without you chucking yours over me as well."

"Ah, but Grendel's are thoroughbreds," David said with gentle sarcasm. "Nothing low class would ever dare live on him."

"Oh, shut up!" snapped Grendel who was too hot and tired to keep up his pretence of being oblivious to all the leg pulling which his manner provoked.

Nobody noticed Llewellyn emerge from the hut with cupped hands and an evil grin which indicated that he was up to no good. Tiptoeing across to Griffith who was still crouched over the spring, he dropped something onto his sleeve then gleefully yelled "Present for you!" as he stepped back to watch the fun.

Griffith looked around to see what was going on, screamed in mortal terror as he caught sight of what was scuttling along his shoulder and then turned hysterical as it disappeared down the neck of his tunic because he no longer had his charm to ward it off. Throwing himself in the mud, he frantically rolled around shrieking, "Get if off me!", much to Llewellyn's great amusement but the latter's mirth wasn't shared by the other warriors who immediately rushed to Griffith's assistance.

Maud watched in bewilderment as Rhys, David and Iorweth struggled to hold Griffith down enough for Grendel to fish around inside his tunic and she was even more mystified when he finally retrieved what looked to be the squashed remains of a large spider. Surely a warrior couldn't be afraid of such a harmless, if unpleasant looking creature.

Griffith, however, was. When his friends released him he had difficulty in sitting up because he was shaking so much and his face was chalk white beneath its liberal splattering of mud.

"You're all right," Grendel assured him. "It's dead."

`Y...you're sure?" Griffith stammered, his eyes screwed shut in case he inadvertently caught a glimpse of his own worst nightmare.

"Quite sure," Grendel insisted. "You flattened it while you were rolling around."

Griffith opened his eyes, saw there was nothing more to be afraid of and slowly got to his feet. Then he went berserk. With a blood curdling yell of, "I'll kill you, you bastard!" he dived on the still laughing Llewellyn , knocking him to the ground with the obvious intention of carrying out his threat.

Llewellyn had expected some kind of violent reaction to his practical joke although the prospect hadn't bothered him because he was more than a match for most men in a brawl but he hadn't bargained for anything like this. Griffith, possessed with the abnormal strength of a manic fury, was intent on tearing him apart with his bare hands and nothing he could do in self defence seemed to have much effect. Kicking, gouging and punching, they bowled through the mud with first one uppermost and then the other as Llewellyn tried to escape his erstwhile friend who continually dived on him each time he succeeded in struggling free.

Maud, who'd hastily backed away to a place of safety, watched the unedifying spectacle with horrified fascination. Although she couldn't blame Griffith for losing his temper, it was still something of a shock to see just how nasty this amiable and rather likeable slob could get when pushed far enough and while she had no sympathy for Llewellyn after what he'd done she was still frightened for him. Why didn't the others do something before he was seriously hurt or even killed?

Her unspoken question coincided with Grendel's decision to put a stop to the proceedings - normally he allowed combatants to slug their aggression out of their systems but Llewellyn, who was now desperately trying to prevent Griffith from unscrewing his head, was in urgent need of assistance. Shouting at the others to give him a hand he leapt into action with Rhys, David and Iorweth close behind but Griffith proved singularly difficult to restrain even though it was now five against one - or at least until Llewellyn managed to wriggle free and crawl across to Maud where he gingerly checked himself over to make sure he was still in one piece.

Griffith, resenting the interference which had led to Llewellyn's escape, redoubled his efforts to fight his friends off and they churned around in the mud as they tried to pull him in the opposite direction to which he wanted to go. Inch by inch they succeeded in dragging him nearer the bank of the stream but Griffith was far from beaten yet for he wrenched an arm free and awarded Rhys a hefty jab in the stomach with his elbow. Rhys promptly collapsed to lie gasping and retching on the ground and seconds later Iorweth received a blow to the side of the head which sent him reeling backwards to trip over him.

David's corns were the next casualty when Griffith trampled on his bare feet, a fortuitous occurrence as it so happened because the agonising experience afforded him a berserker strength of his own. 

With an ear splitting "AARRGGHH!" David heaved Griffith over the edge of the bank and the resounding splash as he hit the scummy water was closely followed by another when Grendel, who'd been caught off balance, fell in after him to land face down in a patch of duckweed.

The sudden soaking shocked Griffith back into sanity and he floundered to his feet looking distinctly dazed now that he didn't have his anger to sustain him. With Grendel's help he clambered up the bank to where he was met by an apprehensive Llewellyn who, on seeing that he had finally calmed down, held out a hand and sheepishly muttered, "Sorry."

Griffith glared at him woozily for a second or two while deciding whether or not to accept the apology before allowing himself to be hauled onto level ground. Then he collapsed in a heap to recover from his exertions while his contrite friend sat down beside him and massaged his rapidly stiffening neck.

"That's you on permanent beacon duty for the next fortnight, Llewellyn," Grendel snapped as he squelched past to see how the rest were faring. It was a far from popular assignment but, to Llewellyn's credit, he didn't make any protest even though his split lip, swelling eye and very sore neck might have been considered sufficient punishment for his misdemeanour.

David was putting his boots back on when Grendel arrived while Maud and Iorweth helped a still nauseous Rhys to sit up.

"Is he all right?" Grendel enquired.

"Yes, I think so, " Maud told him, having difficulty keeping a straight face.

Grendel glared at her. "What's so funny, then?" he demanded.

His question was answered by a "Quack, quack!" from Iorweth who was by no means devoid of a sense of humour and, realising what was wrong, he removed several strands of duckweed from his hair before wiping his face with the back of his hand. Then he stared in furious disbelief at the blue streaks which it had picked up from his hair ribbons.

"Are those the cheap old things you bought down the market?" asked David in the manner of one who'd warned against such folly and been unheeded.

Grendel shot him a look of pure venom. "One more word out of you and I'll smash your bleeding face in!" he snarled, thereby revealing that for all his airs and graces he was really as common as the muck he'd acquired from his scramble up the bank.

David wisely refrained from further comment but exchanged grins with Iorweth as their Captain squelched his way back to Griffith who was also sitting up now. Both men were starting to steam gently in the heat so after commiserating with each other on how vilely uncomfortable they felt they remedied the situation as far as decency would allow by stripping off their boots and tunics. Then Grendel remembered his dripping hair ribbons and removed them too before the dye could make any further mark on him than it had already.

Llewellyn decided to follow their example because he was even more uncomfortable under a coating of dried mud so, after cramming his discarded things into his saddle bag, he went over to the spring to try and clean himself up a bit. A lot of splashing around later and he'd succeeded in getting the worst off his face but there wasn't enough water to deal with his hair so in the end he left it.

They were now as ready as they'd ever be to move on to Stepple, a short journey which Maud didn't relish at all. Her behind was so tender that she dreaded getting on horseback again but as it promised to be even more painful walking she prepared to grit her teeth and suffer the lesser of the two evils. This, however, was nothing compared to Grendel's sudden revelation that she would have to ride with Iorweth because David and Llewellyn were heavy enough for a horse to carry on their own without an extra passenger and she was seriously considering walking after all when Iorweth said, "I could lead you if you prefer it."

She found his humble offer to let her ride while he did the walking even more touching than his earlier confusion and it prompted her to reconsider; he'd never shown any indication of wanting to harm her even when he'd been off his head and neither had he attempted to chat her up since he'd seen how his madness had frightened her. In fact, he'd treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy throughout so, in the end, she decided that it wouldn't really be fair of her to take him up on his suggestion.

"No, of course not," she told him, trying to sound friendly without overdoing it. "I'll ride with you."

Unlike the others who'd hauled her up afterwards like a sack of grain, Iorweth lifted her onto his horse first, taking great care to hold her only by acceptable portions of her anatomy. Then he mounted up himself and took the reins, being very careful again not to touch her any more than was absolutely necessary in the process. Now that she was physically closer to him than she'd ever been she was surprised to discover that her hair wasn't standing on end after all; in fact, had she not known about his ear hunting she might well have fancied him in return because he wasn't bad looking in spite of his dandruff and, while his apparent age of around the late twenties was a little on the old side, he was certainly nowhere near decrepit yet.

Grendel's right, she thought as the party set off once more. He really is a nice person.

\--------

Those inhabitants of Stepple who weren't still working in the fields stared in stunned disbelief at the strange procession entering their village. It was led by what appeared to be a half naked savage from Britain's ancient past who'd tried painting his face and body with woad while he was blind drunk. Next came another savage with a battered face who was holding his head at a peculiar angle; his hair bristled in stiff reddish spikes as if he'd copied the old Celtic fashion using local mud instead of limewash. He was followed by a third savage who was covered with livid bruises and in an apparently mean mood because of them. Fourth in line was a filthy fat boy who rode doubled up as if suffering from severe colic; fifth came a relatively normal individual who was no cleaner than his predecessor and, finally, there was a girl with a very pained expression perched in front of a tall, thin man who gazed adoringly at what could be seen of her ears through her long, straggly hair.

Everyone remained rooted to the spot until Grendel got within a few yards of a scrawny, runny nosed infant who gazed up at him with widened eyes and a thumb stuffed firmly in his mouth. Then the child's mother was spurred into action; snatching him up, she scuttled inside her hut and shut and barred the door and, following her example, the other villagers also grabbed hold of their offspring and disappeared from the scene.

"What the hell's got into them?" asked Griffith in a bewildered voice.

"I don't know," said Grendel, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "Anyone would think we were lepers the way people carry on. I mean, what's wrong with us?" Aware of eyes peering at them through cracks in the shutters he turned to the nearest hut and shouted, "We're looking for a little girl."

"Get lost, you pervert," shouted back a nervously defiant male voice.

"Let me try," suggested Maud. Addressing the hidden villager she called, "We're trying to find my sister and we're wondering if you've seen a little girl anywhere around, that's all."

"No, we haven't," came the far from friendly reply.

Grendel looked at her as if to say 'so much for your help' before demanding, "We need to water the horses so will somebody come out and see to it?"

"There's a well round the back," he was informed. "Help yourself and go."

He drew himself up to his full height in the saddle at that. "I happen to be Lord Owen's Captain," he announced imperiously.

"Oh, yeah?" scoffed the villager. "And I'm the Queen of May."

Grendel opened his mouth to reply with a suitably crushing retort but David forestalled him. "You can't really blame him," he said, making a superhuman effort not to laugh at his colourful young friend. "You don't exactly look the part at the moment."

Grendel had to admit to himself that perhaps he didn't so, rather than become involved in an undignified argument with the villager, he resigned himself to not getting the attention which his rank deserved. Adopting an air of couldn't care less, he led the way round to the well where they all dismounted with many a wince and groan from the less fit members of the party.

"Are you all right?" Iorweth asked worriedly on seeing the flicker of agony which crossed Maud's face as he lifted he down. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I expect her bum's sore," Griffith put in sympathetically before she could deny there was anything wrong. "She's not used to riding, remember?"

Maud blushed and this set Iorweth turning pink too. Although he could enjoy a bawdy joke as much as anyone he still felt that vulgarity was unsuitable for mixed company, especially when he was deeply attracted to the girl concerned.

"Do you have to be so coarse?" he reproved. "There are other ways of saying such things."

"All means the same in the end, though, don't it?" Griffith pointed out, unabashed, as he took his horse after the others to the nearby water trough.

"I suppose he's right, really," Maud said with a giggle because it was impossible to stay annoyed with Griffith for long. "But I do wish he hadn't mentioned it."

"Is there anything I can do?" Iorweth enquired in all seriousness. Then he realised what giving help implied under the circumstances and turned even pinker. "I mean...that is...er, I think I'd better see to the horse."

With that he led the animal over to the trough, his face still flaming.

"Oh, come off it," Griffith protested on seeing Iorweth's all too obvious embarrassment. "I didn't say anything that bad."

Iorweth sighed miserably. "No, it was me this time. I just wasn't thinking, that's all."

"Well, she didn't smack you in the mouth as far as I could see so why worry about it?" Griffith told him cheerfully.

"But that's not the point," Iorweth argued. "I thought I was starting to get somewhere with her at last but it's all going wrong again."

Grendel, who was trying to wash dye from his arms, paused in his fruitless task.

"Don't talk daft. She seems to have forgotten about the drover, so if she can do that I'm sure she'll forgive you for putting your foot in it." Having said his piece he returned to his ablutions only to snarl. "What's the matter with this bloody stuff? If it comes off ribbons, why won't it come off me?"

"Perhaps you need hot water - and soap." Llewellyn hinted.

"Do you think so?" Iorweth asked wistfully, his mind still on Maud.

"You should be downwind of him," Llewellyn said rudely as he led his horse from the trough to make way for the next in line.

"It's just that I'm falling in love with her," Iorweth continued, looking puzzled by Llewellyn's remark.

"I suppose it will wear off eventually?" Grendel asked worriedly, his mind having reverted to his own problems.

"No it won't," Iorweth said firmly, his face now taking on a soft and dreamy expression.

Grendel stared at him in horror. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Yes, I am serious. Why shouldn't I be serious?" Iorweth insisted angrily. "I've really fallen for her, don't you understand?" Then his eyes became sad as he added, "But I can't see her ever feeling the same way about me."

"Eh?" said Grendel blankly.

"Why don't you try one of Gulnar's potions?" suggested David who'd been thinking about various ways to remove dye.

"I'd rather have her hate me than resort to that," Iorweth replied, sounding shocked by the very idea. "Anyway, what would be the point? I'd always know she only cared for me because of it."

"I meant Grendel," David explained patiently.

"Why should I want to give Maud a potion?" Grendel asked in bewilderment. Then he realised what David was on about. "Oh, I see. Do you think it would work?"

David shrugged. "It might do."

"No!" Iorweth almost shouted. "I'm not giving her one and I won't have anyone else giving her one either." Rhys sniggered and he hastily corrected himself. "I mean a potion."

"I think they're talking about something for the dye," said Griffith before anyone could complicate the issue further.

Iorweth looked relieved. "Oh, won't it come off then?" he asked.

It was Grendel's turn to sigh. "I give up," he said wearily. "Let's go, shall we?"

Maude tried to appear as if she hadn't been listening to the conversation when Iorweth rejoined her. Although she wasn't entirely sure what they'd been talking about it had still been clear that he was more attracted to her than she'd realised and the revelation had considerably alarmed her. 

However, his refusal to have her bewitched into returning his affections had shown yet again how nice a person he was and she'd found that she was beginning to like him rather more than was wise under the circumstances. What if he asked to see her again? The last thing she wanted was a suitor who had periodic fits of insanity but, on the other hand, she knew that if he didn't ask she'd be disappointed. It was all very confusing.

She couldn't help noticing that he still looked a little embarrassed over his parting remark so she gave him a friendly smile to let him know that she hadn't been offended by it. Then, after he'd hesitantly smiled back, she said, "I suppose I've got to walk now, have I?"

"No, you can still ride with me," he told her, sounding as if he hoped she wanted to "We came less than half a mile so it won't have tired my horse out."

He helped her up again, courteously ignoring all show of discomfort on her part for which she was exceedingly grateful; her complaint was a very undignified one at the best of times and it was far worse in the company of a group of men whom she didn't know well enough to feel at ease with. Why couldn't she have had something like a twisted ankle, she wondered irritable. Then she could have accepted the sympathy she deserved without feeling humiliated.

Oh, no, she thought as she saw Griffith coming over to them. Please don't mention it again.

Griffith, however, didn't. "Hang on, Grendel's decided to get dressed," was all he said. "He doesn't fancy anyone telling him to get lost at Clunton as well."

Maud almost sighed with relief and not only because of her indelicate condition. It would be awkward enough arriving home with her escort as it was without one of them displaying his full, garish complement of bright blue streaks.

\--------

Due to Grendel's covering up, the sight which met Maud's fellow villagers wasn't quite as bizarre as that which had unnerved the inhabitants of Stepple but, nevertheless, they still looked horrified on her account. Despite it being obvious that she was unharmed, everyone seemed to find this hard to believe, especially her parents who came running over as if to rescue her from some terrible danger.

"What are you doing with my daughter?" her father demanded furiously against a background of hostile mutterings from his neighbours who'd closed in behind him.

Maud gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "These are some of Lord Owen's warriors. They've been helping me to look for Joan."

"She was back hours ago," he snapped, glaring at Iorweth as if the latter had used Joan's disappearance as a means of luring Maud away for nefarious purposes.

"Look, we haven't raped her or anything if that's what you're thinking," Grendel said coldly. "I knew it wasn't safe for her to be out on her own so I insisted that we escorted her."

"Oh?" came the suspicious reply. "And who might you be, then?"

Grendel did his best to look dignified in spite of his dishevelled appearance. "Lord Owen's Captain. Surely you must recognise me? I've passed through here often enough."

This was, indeed, true because Clunton was on the main road, but as his fleeting visits had occurred during working hours, most of the inhabitants had been away in the fields at the time.

Finally, however, a toothless old man said, "I've seen him,." before adding, "Never knew he was a Captain, though," in astonishment.

"I'd have thought it were the other one," his equally old and toothless wife exclaimed without specifying who she meant.

Grendel studiously ignored this and motioned for Iorweth to help Maud down. Iorweth did so in his typically gentlemanly fashion of dismounting first but for all his care to minimise her discomfort it was plain to see that she found it a painful experience. Her parents seemed to think this proved she'd suffered a dreadful time whatever her assurances to the contrary because her mother flung her arms around her protectively while her father glared at Grendel and snarled, "You said you hadn't done anything to her."

"Her bu.....behind's sore, that's all," Griffith explained cheerfully. "She's never ridden a horse before and it gets you like that until you're used to it."

"He's telling the truth, honestly," Maud insisted, feeling more than a little annoyed by so much fuss about nothing. Admittedly her companions of the afternoon were on the rough and rowdy side but it was ridiculous the way people automatically expected the worst of them.

Her father studied her face carefully then came to the conclusion that everyone was, indeed, telling the truth and switched his anger to her for causing him so much upset and worry by going off alone.

"You'll have a sore behind alright by the time I've finished with you," he threatened, his manner indicating that this was no idle promise.

The thought of anyone hurting his beloved Maud even by way of just punishment was too much for Iorweth to bear. Stepping forward, he politely but firmly said, "I think she's learned her lesson without that."

"Oh. You do, do you?" her father retorted acidly.

"The mine caved in while we were looking for Joan in there," Iorweth told him quietly, yet with a solemnity of tone which suggested that the incident had been so horrifying that none of the party was likely to forget it in a hurry.

Maud's mother gasped at this revelation and Iorweth gave her one of his shy, sweet smiles which few women could resist if they didn't know about his funny turns.

"There was no harm done but I don't think she'll want to go wandering around in out of the way places on her own again."

There was a stubborn, "Hmph!" from Maud's father but Iorweth sensed that he was beginning to back down even if he wouldn't admit it. "She only went off in the first place because she cares about her sister," he added. "She's got a lot of courage and determination so you should be proud of her."

There was another, "Hmph!" but this time the noise revealed that her father had succumbed to persuasion. Living as he did in a society geared to warfare, he couldn't help but regard a professional fighting man with some degree of awe so when one also made a good impression by being dignified and well mannered it was difficult to dismiss his praise of Maud's character.

Iorweth wisely made no further comment on the matter and got back on his horse with a glance at Grendel to indicate that he was now ready to leave. Grendel gave him an ironic 'thank you so much' look back which clearly stated that, while he'd had the sense to keep quiet while Iorweth was smoothing Maud's father down, he'd resented his friend taking over what he felt should have been the leader's role in this respect. He then turned to Maud and treated her to a 'there you are, young lady, you're home safe and sound' kind of smile which made her want to hit him.

"Remember - you were lucky this time," he told her pompously. "So don't do it again. We won't always be there to protect you."

Having re-established the fact that he was in charge to his own satisfaction, he gave her a friendly parting smile and urged his horse round in the direction of Clun Town and, taking this as their cue, the others made their own farewells. Rhys sheepishly mumbled something which sounded like, "Goodbye"; Griffith grinned at her cheekily and said that he hoped she'd feel better tomorrow; Llewellyn gave her a cheery wave and David nodded at her in down to earth acknowledgement.

Iorweth did none of these. He simply looked at her in a way which conveyed an unspoken question and, without any conscious decision on her part, Maud found herself giving him her unspoken answer. Then he rode off after the others and she watched him go, half of her looking forward to when he'd be back and the other half wondering if she might be lettering herself in for more than she was capable of handling.

Oh, well, she thought philosophically. At least I found the worst out beforehand so it won't come as a nasty shock. But I just hope he doesn't expect me to admire his ear collection, that's all.

And with that she followed her parents back to their hut to see what mischief Joan had been up to during their absence.

\--------

"Some quiet afternoon's outing this turned out to be," remarked David disparagingly. "We'd have been better off staying in."

"Oh, I dunno," said Griffith. "At least we won't have to worry about our ears for a while."

David looked over at Iorweth who was lost in a daydream again but as his face wore the soppy, somewhat idiotic expression of a young man head over heels in love, it was obvious that ears were the last things on his mind at the moment unless they happened to belong to a certain young lady.

"Well, there is that, I suppose," he conceded.

"And there's another thing, too," Llewellyn put in. "Even Grendel's been wrinkling his nose up at smelling like a stagnant pond so I think he's going to have a bath."

They all looked expectantly at their Captain for confirmation but he refused to let them know that he'd overheard and continued leading the way back to the castle and supper in a superior silence.

THE END


End file.
